Red Rose

I have been writing a series of short stories and poems on my Instagram page for some days now and it is to last for a month. They are basically random themes from the organizers of the monthly prompts. The picture above is from the prompt of today which is “the red rose”. It has been interesting so far, you could check the previous ones on my page @tolarnee

The red rose is simply about remaining connected to God because he is the vine and we are the branches, we are dead if we are disconnected; its simply a matter of time


So a friend of mine, Dara Ahmed and I decided to write a poem on this beautiful and soulful picture we saw and that’s what you are seeing above. I was to start it and she was to complete and I can’t believe how beautiful it turned out. I will definitely try to write more poems with people. Two poetry filled heads is actually better than one.


Through my eyes and through my mind (TEAM)

​Everyone sees, hears,imagines and thinks of a lot of stuffs everyday; myself included. However, I realized that most times I just tell someone or keep it to myself, I don’t really ever think of writing and describing in my words.

So I decided to start a series where I would be writing these stuffs I see, hear, imagine or that bothers me, in a fictional sense and that’s the idea behind through my eyes and through my mind.

It would mostly be short stories and sometimes maybe poetry. I would like to know what you guys think on the writings so please do well to follow and share with friends who just want a good gist or story or an off the rules and sincere fiction.
I would equally be posting excerpts and some other stuffs on my Social media accounts, you could also check things already posted. IG @tolarnee Facebook: Onashile Peace


Dem talk say I dey always vex

Dem say I no get life

Say I dey frustrated 

Shey my matter no reach to overpara 

I be first class graduate 

After seven years wey I no see work

Bros no wan die

I start to dey drive cabu

I just wan get small change survive

Naso I hear say I get pikin 

Which kind level

Of course no be me get am

I hear say police dey find me

Who dem help

I no fit die

I go use Oga money drink

I talk say I wan forget

Forget wetin

World pipu no gree make I forget 

Dem talk say soldiers come dey do vigil

Dey wait make I show for house 

Show fire

Dat one no dey enough 

I come enter one chance with Lagos police

Say I dey pass one way

I manage get small courage 

Put cabu for reverse 

Dey fly for road

You come dey talk say I dey para
Why I no go vex

Tell me why I no go para

You day use nose shout for Lagos traffic

Inside your air-conditioned mobile mansion 

Say make I no use my rickety yellow bus 

Jam your million dollar heavenly jeep

You think say I care

You tell me say I dey frustrated 

No be the truth be that

Just dey your acada lane

Make I no use forever frustration 

Prepare burial akara for una


          (c) Onashile Peace 

#pidginpoetry #tryingout #frustrationoflife

My friend, my love, my friend

Maybe it would be tonight
The night I would finally get the courage to do what everyone seems to term a taboo. I do not care what anyone calls it, I just know the creator gave me a mouth for a reason. And don’t forget the cute lips too.

Maybe tonight is the night I would free my heart from its misery and get to stop playing stupid games because I do not want to appear cheap.

I do not care if he doesn’t talk to me again or if he gives me a distance wider than what I give cooking meals, I would just be glad that the burden is no longer on my tiny shoulders.

I am in love with my best friend. Offense number one. I am going to tell him. Offense number two plus I have no class its so cheap to tell a guy FIRST that you love him. Blah blah blah….My life, my heart, my mouth, my dignity, I can’t seem to see how any of those would be anyone’s headache.

I looked at my very curvy self in the mirror and assured myself that he would be dumb not to see me as more than a friend tonight. I was practically walking on the moon imagining how romantic our story would be; he was my best friend and now he is my husband. Oh my wedding gown and the royal frills, I was grinning stupidly.

I saw him sitting at our spot and I purposely took slow and seductive steps till I got to where he was sitting looking innocently handsome. I loved the impression I was making.

“Are you going to meet someone tonight?”

“Well yes and I am meeting the person already”

“You really look smashing”

“Thanks dearie, so what’s up?”

” My girlfriend said I need to stop seeing you”

“I thought you guys broke up”

“We got back together today”


The clash seemed ethereal 
What seemed like a minor scuffle 

Metamorphosed into a battlefield 

Steel on flesh

The slashing felt endless

Tit for tat

It ended in rivers of blood

I walk like in a daze

Stepping on a misplaced finger

Or sometimes an unidentifiable brain tissue 

I do not understand the madness 

I was taught we are all humans

I was taught that human life is sacred

Where is the sacredness of the blood?

All they care about is tribe

I am tired

I load the injured to the gurneys

I wrap the dead in plain white clothes

In tens and now hundreds 

Would it all end?

They seem blind and deaf

To the injuries and dying cries of their own kinsmen

Nothing makes sense anymore

My senses are dead with the sight and smell of death

I am going home

I see rivulets of blood on the street

As I travel the long way home

I do not stop

Its not like I do not care

But I have done enough 


                            Onashile Peace


Rivulets of blood
Steel on warm and cold flesh

Penetrated private skin

And the young with weapons of slow destruction

Beheaded religious faithfuls

Tyrannical enslavement of the “weak” gender

Religious justification of mass murders

And the suicides in holy disguise
A beautiful single human race

Divided into a hundred different lines

That justifies hatred and discrimination

Even on the highest planes of power

A rich but starving nation

The masses hunger and the leaders’ greed
The people steal to feed their young and are killed

The leaders embezzle to multiply their personal empires and are celebrated

A father in his two months old daughter

A teenage girl and the gang of pervert murderers

A mother turned to a human punching bag and certified slave

And her daughter sold into marriage slavery to the pot bellied Chief

The world of today is disheartening

The world sometimes seems hopeless

In the end its every man for himself

And God for every man
                     Onashile Peace